Olympic Games
by SaptainCwan
Summary: After the unexpected loss of his brother, who doubles as Killian's swim coach, potential Olympic Swimmer Killian Jones doesn't want to do much of anything. However, silver medalist Emma Swan turns up on his doorstep and forces him to accept her as his coach. Will the relationship between them remain professional or will it turn into something more? (Mentions of suicide)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Killian Jones had no intentions to start his day off quite so early. The sun wasn't even up yet. A high pitched ringing echoed throughout the room. It took him a minute to place the sound. Killian glared steadily at his phone. He wiped at his groggy eyes as the phone continued to vibrate, the sound echoing through the room like a gun shot. The screen lit up with the time.4:04. He couldn't fathom who it would be.

He scrubbed a palm over his face as he debated whether or not to answer. It was his day off. That meant no training, no press. He groaned when he remembered what the press thought he 'owed' them. He refused to make a statement on his record breaking race. Not until he and Liam had a chance to celebrate first.

The phone continued the loud vibrations. Killian could feel his muscles tighten in agitation until he snapped and decided to answer the call. He almost felt sorry for whoever was on the other end.

He stretched out for a minute, allowing his sore muscles to relax as best they could. He reached over to the wooden night stand next to his bed and pressed the green 'accept call' button. "Bloody hell. This better be good." His sleep addled mind warned him that that was no way to start a conversation, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Is this Killian Jones?" A female voice asked on the other end. His frustration increased tenfold. If this was a fan calling…

He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm. He took a deep breath before responding. "Depends on who's asking."

There was a slight pause from the other end before, "This is Lily from the Los Angeles Police Department. Your brother…" Killian could feel his stomach sink and his mind suddenly woke up.

"Aye, what about Liam? Is he in some sort of trouble?" Killian prayed it wasn't bad. Liam had probably just gotten a little too drunk watching the football match yesterday. Killian tried to convince himself that it was possible, even if he'd never seen Liam drink more than two beers. Killian knew that he himself was the drinker in the family.

"It seems that he…" The lady on the other end stopped for a moment. Killian could hear paper rustling on the other end of the line. _Spit it out already._ "Is there any way you can stop by the station today? We have a couple of questions for you."

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Liam would find a way to get him out of bed before his normal training time. "Of course. What did the ponce do this time?" He asked as he rolled out of bed. He put the call on speaker phone as he began to dress.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Lily finally spoke again. "I can't disclose that information over the phone. Whenever you arrive at the station, find Tiny at the front desk and tell him that you're there to speak to Lily. He'll know how to direct you. Thank you for your time, Mr. Jones." The line went silent and there was a soft click.

Killian furrowed his eyebrows, confused. He wondered what questions he would be asked; he wondered why Liam couldn't answer them himself. His worry increased over his brother, thoughts of trials and the details of whatever happened sprawled across the sports section of a newspaper.

Okay, maybe Killian was making it a bigger deal than it was. Most of the world didn't care about what went on in the sport of swimming. Most people hardly knew the names of the swimmers, not to mention how little publicity the coaches got. Liam's name wouldn't be in the paper over a small misdemeanor. Killian prayed that that's all it was.

Killian grabbed a fresh t-shirt and clean pair of jeans before running to the large bathroom that connected to his bedroom. He stepped inside and grabbed a tooth brush, quickly falling into his normal daily routine. When he finished brushing his teeth, washing his face, and combing his hair, he headed back to his bedroom to throw on his favorite set of tennis shoes. He set to work on tying them, but was sloppy in his haste, cursing the entire time. Once he finished, he filed out of his bedroom and headed down the hall, stopping by the front door to grab his jacket and the keys to his brand new car. He would never get over the perks of being an Olympic prospect.

4:34.

He shook his head as he saw the time displayed on his fancy new dashboard. Liam really couldn't wait another hour?

Killian decided to take his time down the LA roads, choosing the slow life for once. He'd tested the speed of his new Veneno Roadster. He already knew it maxed out around 220 mph. He figured he'd take the sleek black model for a slower ride today.

Killian took in the mountains, admiring the soft snow on top of them. He thought back to when he was a child and his mother took him and Liam out to Scotland during the winter. How she complained of the snow, but he and Liam relished every second of it. He thought back to the snowball fights and the igloo they built and how proud his brother was when he made his first snowman, giggling happily, with snow floating through his dark curly hair. Killian remembered his mother yelling at them when they came in, telling them they weren't dressed warmly enough for a blizzard, but he and Liam just smiled broadly at each other, ready for their next tumble in the snow.

Killian sighed softly. Those were the good days. Back before his mom died. Back before he and Liam were alone in the world.

The sky was clear as he drove ahead, the sun beaming down on him. The wind sang softly through the window, enough to change his hair into an artfully mussed style. It was the perfect Los Angeles day.

He pushed all his thoughts away and simply watched cars wiz past him. He acknowledged the occasional motorcyclists that blazed past him, probably pissed at his low speed, but he felt inclined to barely go the speed limit. He was tired of going at record speeds; he simply wanted a soft, slow morning.

4:53.

That's what the clock read when he signed into the police station.

The place was small, but had a spacious layout. It was surprisingly well-lit and clean, something he wasn't expecting out of a government facility.

He currently stood at the front desk, signing himself in for his appointment. People hustled in and out of the building, the stench of coffee filling his nostrils as a small man came from behind the desk to help him. "Hi, I'm Tiny, how can I help you today?" Killian smiled to himself, thinking how rough it must be to have to say 'I'm Tiny' every day.

"Hello, mate. I'm Killian J-"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Jones! Right this way, please." Killian smirked to himself. Of course Tiny knew who he was. Ever so slowly, everyone was beginning to know who he was. He hoped to keep it that way.

4:56.

Killian was led into a small conference room and was left on his own for a few minutes. He glanced around. Carpeted floors, a nice wooden table, red, spinning chairs that looked to have decent back support. Not the worst place to work, he assumed.

As he began inspecting the motivational posters that scoured the beige walls, the door opened and a lady not much younger than he stepped through.

"Mr. Jones, I'm Lily, we spoke earlier." Killian nodded and shook Lily's hand. "I'm so sorry to have to call you in here today," she immediately started with.

"Not a problem, love," he replied with a quick wink. He pretended not to notice the slight blush that set into her cheeks.

A short silence lapsed between the two and Killian took a moment to study her. Her dark brown hair was paired with dark brown eyes. She was tall and thin with her makeup done meticulously. She was pretty, no doubt, but he wasn't interested. Blondes were more his type.

"Mr. Jones, if you would sit, I have a couple of questions about your brother." She gestured to the chair across from her and Killian slowly took his seat.

"Ah, yes, the bloody wanker. What has he gotten himself into this time? A drunken bar fight perhaps?" Killian gave a small laugh and a slight smile, only to see that it was not returned. Instead, it was met by a stern face.

Lily pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. Her dark brown hair was pulled back tight and she was wearing a grey pantsuit, giving her a no-nonsense sort of look. She was suddenly cold and distant, the complete opposite of what he had her pegged for. Her harsh eyes met his as she asked, "Did your brother have a history of mental illness?"

Killian shook his head in disbelief. Where was this coming from? "I don't believe so."

The woman across from him nodded her head and began writing on a pad of paper. Killian watched, confused. Where was this going?

"Did your brother have a history of alcohol abuse?"

"No."

"Substance abuse?"

"No."

"Did he show patterns of domestic abuse or was he abused?"

Killian pursed his lips. "No. That's not how this is going to work, officer. Now, I kindly answered one of your questions, so maybe you'll answer one of mine."

Lily straightened up in her chair, tilting her chin upwards. "Sir, I know that you're used to certain privileges, but I must ask you to answer the question."

"No!" Killian grew demanding. Liam was his only family and they thought he was… "No, I want to see him."

"Mr. Jones, you can see him as soon as you answer this question." Lily held her hands up and nodded his head at him, as if trying to persuade him that it would be alright.

"Do you guys think you're going to use anything I say against Liam? I refuse to keep talking. I want a lawyer." Rash decisions started setting in as Killian realized that Liam must've been in a lot of trouble if they were asking these types of questions.

Silence started on both parties, Lily waiting for Killian to give up and Killian waiting for Lily to give up. Killian folded his arms across his chest and stared at her, pulling his dark leather jacket around him a little tighter. He knew he wasn't going to be the one to fold.

5:12.

"Okay, Mr. Jones. I will let you see your brother. But you have to finish answering my questions when we get back. We aren't pressing charges against him," Lily sighed, finally breaking.

Killian grinned triumphantly and hopped out of his seat, anxious to get to his brother. Lily rose from her chair much more slowly, taking a deep breath and arranging the papers on her desk as she pleased. She set her pens back in the correct mug and pushed past Killian, opening the door.

5:17.

Killian's heart shattered. His vision broke. His breath hitched. His voice was caught. His fingers trembled. He couldn't believe it.

The police sounds: Siren, papers, pens scratching wood. The radios, the footsteps, the slamming cells. Everything stopped. Killian's ears shut off, his eyes sharpening, trying to ward off the tears that began streaming down.

Liam. Unblinking. Lifeless eyes staring upwards. Limp hands laying to the sides, toes slowly turning cold. A hole through his temple.

"No," Killian's voice was but a whisper. "No, this isn't real. This isn't happening." His head spun. This didn't make sense. Killian couldn't be alone in the world. They had always been a team. This was a cruel joke the universe was playing.

Lily stepped out of the corner and calmly approached Killian. "It was self-inflicted," she informed him, as if that would help.

Thoughts flooded Killian's mind. The day Liam first taught him to swim, the day Liam took the training wheels off his bike and rushed down the street to take care of him when he fell off. The way Liam read to him after mom died, the way Liam tried to keep him from wondering about their father. The days when Killian came home with a broken heart and Liam forced him to go out and have a good time. All the times his brother was there for him in ways he wouldn't be anymore.

Killian felt his heart rip in half. He thought being stabbed would hurt him less. This was his last person. Liam was his only hope. He rushed over to Liam's side, knocking things over in his haste. "No, no, no," he repeated, a soft sob combined with a desperate plea. "Brother, no, wake up, please, Liam, it's Killian, wake up." He shook his brother, his hope fading slowly from each moment to the next.

Killian felt the plans for the future slip through his fingers, but what hurt most was that Liam made these big dreams while knowing what he would do. Liam knew he would never get to see his brother compete in the Olympic finals. They would never get to celebrate his last big win together. All of Killian's dreams were gone in an instant. He couldn't do this without Liam.

Killian pressed his head into Liam's neck, tears running rampant across his cheeks. Thoughts of getting down on his knees and begging the universe to take it back flooded through his mind. "Brother. We were supposed to fight the world together." His throat closed up. He thought of everything Liam had given up for him. A house, a family, all of his time. He gave his life to him. He gave up everything to get Killian where he was now. And what had Killian ever done for him?

A fresh dose of guilt rocked over Killian. "You didn't have a life because of me, brother. I am so sorry. I should've… I should've noticed your struggles. I should've grown up faster. I should've… I should've been a better brother." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Emma Swan was just fine. She didn't need Walsh, her latest, most promising new swimmer, and she didn't need his giant sums of cash that kept her afloat most days. No, she didn't need him at all.

Maybe if she repeated it enough times, she would feel a little less angry about the whole thing. She had her rules. No messing around with the swimmers, especially the clients. No looking, as looking leads to touching. Don't get involved. She had never  
considered the possibility of a client so eager to break those rules. And thus, a new rule was born for her: Don't let them try to break these rules.

Her rules hadn't helped her here. She had followed them to the letter. However, she couldn't control Walsh. He'd taken to her a little too eagerly, all too willing to get up at an absurd hour of the morning to happily meet her at the pool with a smile  
and a cup of coffee. He'd memorized her order by her second day on the job.

Now she was out of a job, low on cash, and without her daily fix. But she wasn't about to let Walsh break her down now. She didn't need a repeat of Neal. She didn't think she could do that again.

Slowly, Emma pulled herself out of bed. She opted to leave her pajamas on for the third day in a row. It's not like she had anywhere to be.

She looked around her room. It was decent sized and painted a sweet light grey with a solid white stripe horizontally running through it. It was big enough to have a closet and hold her bed, but she didn't have anything of sentiment on display. She hardly  
had anything of sentiment at all.

She thought about her medium sized house. It wasn't anything special, but it was Los Angeles. She'd take what she could get. She still remembered the moment she paid it off, a smile taking over her face. This place was all hers, something she'd earned.

She rolled off the bed and grabbed her phone, checking the time. She still had a little while to relax until Henry woke up. With that thought, she reached under her bed and pulled out her most recent read. An overview of the art of swimming: 'Everything  
it takes to Train.' She needed some new strategies for coaching if she was going to acquire a new talent.

After about an hour of reading, she began hearing soft cries coming from the room adjacent from her and she smiled. Even if she had nothing, she always had her son.

She crept through their adjoining door and poked her head into the baby room. The soft green palette filled with jungle branches and animals met her eyes. She remembered how insistent she was that it be perfect as David and Mary Margaret had painted it.  
Her eyes finally rested on the wooden crib and she smiled as she focused on the baby boy, bouncing on his toes, anxious to get to his mother. He gave her a gummy smile and stuck his hands up in the air, knowing that Emma was equally ready to scoop  
him into her arms.

Emma happily slid over to Henry's crib and dug him out of his crib, causing a happy squeal to escape him. "Well, good morning, monkey. Are you ready for breakfast?" Henry made a move to put his fingers in her mouth, so she gently nibbled on them, causing  
him to burst into laughter and bury his head into the crook of her shoulder.

Emma couldn't find it in herself to be bitter about Walsh when Henry was so happy. Another job would come along. Maybe she'd get the next Michael Phelps as her next client. While it was a nice thought, Emma knew how unlikely it was. However, it didn't  
matter. She'd scrub toilets with her bare hands if it meant that Henry would be safe and cared for.

She walked down the cozy hallway, her bare feet cold against the wooden floor, but her heart warm as Henry attempted to form words. She whispered words back to him every now and then and his smile would brighten and he would give her a coy look before  
hiding back into her shoulder, causing her to giggle. She swore her heart would burst one of these days.

Walking into the kitchen, she sat Henry down into his high chair at their small wooden table, setting some baby cereal on his tray before heading towards the shelves to find her breakfast. She rummaged through her food, debating between a healthy breakfast  
and a quick one, ultimately deciding on an apple and a waffle. That should keep her going for a little while.

She placed herself in the seat across from Henry, scooting the wooden chair out far enough that she could sit down. She reached for her plate on the counter and set it down in front of herself, immediately dousing the waffle in syrup.

As she chewed, she thought back to the days where she would've already been up and practicing at this hour, swimming in the small pool she had out back, training for her Olympic glory days. She still had her silver medals hanging up in the living room.  
She thought about the competition every day, thought about all the people she met, all the deals she'd signed. Sometimes she wondered what would've happened if she'd stayed in the game. She gave it all up for Henry and she would never bring herself  
to regret that decision. Her boy was what made her happy. She didn't need, or, more importantly, want anyone else. She could count on Henry and he could count on her. That was the only relationship that would never, ever change. Everyone else could  
leave.

Either way, she knew she couldn't have made a career out of swimming. Only a select few could ever do that. Even if she had been good enough (which she was), she was content with her life now.

With that thought in mind, she decided she could search for a job a little later. Today would be a day for her and Henry.

Once the two finished their breakfasts, Emma cleaned up and pulled Henry from his chair. "It's a beautiful day outside, Henry. What do you say, would you like to go for a swim?" Henry's face lit up once again and he tried to bang his hands together as  
a happy giggle escaped his lips. Even though he wasn't old enough to talk yet, he knew a few words. He definitely remembered what swimming was.

Emma carried Henry back to his room and set him back down in his crib as she rummaged through his stuff. She finally found the blue swim trunks paired with the black floaties that she was looking for.

"You ready for the pool, Henry?" She asked while blowing up his floaties. She watched his little feet bounce as his hands gripped the wooden railing tightly and she realized once again how lucky she was to have such a happy and healthy baby.

She lifted him out of his crib, earning her a happy yelp. Her heart swelled. She slid his swim clothes on him, giving him a healthy dose of sunscreen, a swim shirt, a tiny hat, and baby sunglasses. She was determined to protect her boy the best she could.

Once Henry was dressed, she set him back in his crib and went to find her bathing suit. She slipped through the door that joined their rooms and threw her closet doors open. She flipped through a few before deciding on her favorite red bikini. She threw  
her pajamas off and quickly changed, hearing Henry's impatient cries coming from the other side of her door. She sighed, thinking of Neal. She knew things would've been a little less hectic had Neal been around, but she also didn't want him around  
their son. He'd made his choice very clear, but, some days, Emma wished she'd had an extra pair of hands.

After she finished dressing, Emma closed back up her closet doors and shoved all thoughts of Neal aside. She was going to have a nice day with her son and nothing was going to ruin that.

With that thought, Emma happily waltzed backinto Henry's room and pulled her monkey to her, carrying him past her bedroom and through the patio doors at the end of the hallway. She propped him on her hip as she began to dig through the pool supplies  
and pulling out cold bottles of water, more sunscreen and rafts for her and Henry to lay out on.

She inspected the rafts, a colorful array of blues, pinks, and oranges. With different shapes and sizes, she opted to go with her favorite: a blue hammock-style raft. She tossed it into the perfectly square pool and headed around to the steps, watching  
the calm water lightly tickle her toes. She tightened her grip on Henry as she entered the water, the cold liquid a welcome feeling in the hot sun.

Henry set his hands in the water and splashed, happily giggling the entire way to the raft. Emma slid onto the raft carefully, leaving her legs to dangle in the water as she pressed Henry to her chest and laid out on her raft.

This was the life.

After about half an hour spent lazing away on the raft. Henry flicked water Emma's way, giggling manically as he did so, waiting for her to splash him back. His little fingers tightened around her arm as she spun, slowly enough to ensure she didn't dismount  
him from her lap, causing water to spray everywhere, leaving Henry soaking wet. His smile never did disappoint.

He started squirming after a few minutes, anxious to be engulfed in the water, so Emma was forced out of her nice, swaying seat and back into her old Olympic-Swimmer habits. She knew her baby would have a love of water; she hadn't known that he would  
be eager to learn how to swim at only 8 months old.

She pulled her little tot through the water, making sure he didn't accidentally fall off the raft. She stopped moving when they got to the shallowest end, where the water only stood about a half foot deep. She pulled Henry up so he could be on his feet  
and he immediately began to stomp back through the water, towards the deeper end.

Emma laughed and scooped him up into her arms, immediately running her fingers over his most ticklish spots. High pitched screeches filled the air as Henry twisted and turned against her, baby laughter evident under his protests.

 _This is the perfect day_ , Emma thought.

And then her phone started ringing. Emma immediately decided to ignore it. It was probably Walsh calling to ask her out for the millionth time. How many more times was she going to have to say no in order for him to take a hint? She'd made her rules so  
that this wouldn't happen and it happened anyways. She was going to have to be more careful in the future.

The phone stopped ringing after a minute and Emma sighed in relief. Maybe she could get back to her quiet day with her son.

Then her home phone started ringing.

"Well, son of a bitch," she mumbled. She propped Henry on her hip and, dripping wet, walked them both into the house. She threw the door open to her room and immediately snatched the phone. Whoever was disrupting this quiet moment was going to pay.

"Walsh, if that's you, I-"

"Is this Emma Swan?" A lady asked from the other end of the line.

Emma narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on Henry. If this was one of Neal's goons… "Depends on who's asking."

The lady gave a slight laugh and took a short pause. "I'm Lily from the Los Angeles Police Department. There was a recent… event amongst a coworker of yours that we'd like to ask you about."

Emma's thoughts clouded, leaving her with many questions. Who, what, and why immediately crossed her mind, but she knew asking them would probably do no good. She watched enough television.

"Okay, fire away I guess." She wanted this to be quick and painless.

Of course, that wasn't going to be the case. It never was. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swan, but I'm afraid you have to come in for these types of questions. Is there any way you can be here in an hour?"

Emma wanted to laugh and then cry. An hour?! She still had to feed Henry, change him, and put him down for a nap sometime soon, not to mention that she herself would not be showing up to the police station in her red bikini. "Is there any way we could  
do this later?"

There was paper rustling on the other end of the line accompanied by a pen scratching paper. After a long pause, the lady finally returned. "I'll tell you what, Ms. Swan. You have a son, right? If you can get here in an hour, I will watch him for one  
night. You can have that night off to do whatever you want. How's that sound?"

Emma bit her lip. She could tell why this girl was in the police business. She should've been on the negotiations side of things. On one hand, Emma knew that she didn't know the girl, but on the other hand, Emma knew this girl was a cop. Henry would be  
perfectly safe with a cop, right? Emma couldn't resist taking this deal. "Give me one hour." She set Henry down on the bed, still wet, and began removing his swim clothes.

"It starts now, Ms. Swan. Not a minute late." The line went dead and Emma immediately set to work.

She stripped Henry of his clothes and dried him off, immediately placing a new, clean diaper on him. 53 minutes left.

Emma walked back into Henry's room, placing him back in his crib. "Be right back, baby boy." She slipped back into her room and began to immediately undress. She yanked a towel out of her closet and quickly began drying off. She ran a brush through her  
hair several times before throwing on a white t-shirt and jeans. She knew it was warm outside, but her hand reached for her red leather jacket anyways. She didn't have time to think about practicality. 44 minutes left.

She raced back into Henry's room as he began to whine. She knew he had to be hungry. She pulled him out of his crib and proceeded down the hallway and into the kitchen. She threw open cabinets, searching for some baby food and a spoon. 43 minutes left.

She sat Henry down in his chair and popped open the lid, speeding through the long process of feeding her son. He was surprisingly cooperative, as if sensing her haste. 34 minutes left.

She left Henry in his chair as she went in search of his baby carrier. She dug through everything in his room to find it laying right next to his crib. 3 minutes wasted.

She rushed back to the kitchen, scooping Henry up and rushing out the door, making a point to lock the door behind her. Exactly 30 minutes left.

She set Henry into his baby seat and buckled him up, taking her time on this one. While a night out without him would be nice, she wasn't about to risk his safety. 25 minutes left.

She was too rushed on her drive to the police department to take in her surroundings, other than noticing the clock flashing the time at her on her dash board. She would make it with 5 minutes to spare if she kept this pace.

She raced into the police parking lot with 3 minutes to spare. She removed Henry from his baby seat and hurriedly strapped him into his baby carrier, rushing inside the second she was done.

A man (his nametag said "Tiny", which Emma internally laughed at, This guy was the opposite of Tiny) greeted her at the front door. "Ms. Swan?"

"That's me. I'm here to meet-"

"With Lily, yes, I know. If you could just follow me." Tiny began to lead them through the police station, breaking into small talk. 2 minutes.

They arrived at the conference room with exactly 1 minute to spare. Emma grinned when she realized it.

Emma walked in the door and Lily looked up at the sound of Henry's babbling. "You owe me one night free of this little guy," Emma said, grinning. Lily didn't seem to mind given the way she cooed over Henry for the next few minutes.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan. I'm sorry to have to call you and your precious boy in on such a nice day," Lily started off, gesturing for Emma to sit down across from her. "I just have a couple questions about Liam Jones."

Emma's mind searched through the names of her fellow coaches until she finally remembered Liam. "Ah, nice guy. What'd he do?"

Lily heaved a deep sigh. "I regret to inform you that he committed suicide yesterday night."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows. What did she have to do with this? "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, but I don't know what I can do to help you. I hardly knew the guy. I only met him once or twice."

Lily twirled a pen through her fingers as she considered what to say next. "Emma, he thought you were one of the best coaches in the business. So much so that the last thing he did before he died was send you an email. He didn't even leave a note for  
his own brother, but you got an email."

Emma sat in silence, shocked. Why would Liam have done that? They'd met and raced once at a fundraising event; she could hardly picture him. The only thing she truly remembered were his kind blue eyes. She didn't recall doing anything that could've been  
impactful enough for him to leave his last words in her hands.

"Ms. Swan, all we need you to do is read through the letter and see if there's anything about it that doesn't line up to you. Anything out of place at all." Emma nodded and reached for the laptop in front of her, hastily logging into her email account.  
She was almost, if not more, curious about the contents than the cops were.

She had to scroll a little ways through her email in order to find that name Liam Jones in her inbox. She clicked on his name and the words began to pop up on the screen.

 _Dear Ms. Swan,_

 _I don't know if you remember me. You probably don't; you've met so many people in your lifetime. My name is Liam. I'm a fellow swim coach (and an old swimmer. I believe I raced you once. You undoubtedly beat me, however. Guess it wasn't much of a race). I coach my younger brother, Killian. You probably haven't heard of him yet, but I know you will._

 _I don't know why I'm writing to you, of all people. Actually, I do know why._

 _I wanted someone out in the world to know what I'm about to do. That I'm about to put a bullet in my head and leave my baby brother forever alone in this world._

 _But I don't want to leave him alone. He's in need of a new coach. He's in need someone to keep him on track. I hope that will be you. From what I've heard, you're an excellent coach. A lot of your clients wouldn't have been able to go as far as they did without you. I also know you're currently coaching that git Walsh right now. I guarantee you that Killian is ten times the swimmer Walsh could be. Consider my brother. He's ranked 28th in the United States right now. I know he has the potential to be ranked even higher. He could even make the Olympic team. He just needs a mentor that will push him._

 _I know there's nothing I could ever offer you, but I hope you decide to coach him anyways. He might come off a little prickly, but he's a good kid. He kept me on my feet for long enough. With this last act of mine, I know I'll let him down. I've tried to be a good brother, but I can't keep the act up anymore._

 _At the very least, please let I know that I love him. There was nothing he could do to stop this, but I want him to know that this wasn't about him. Now he has another guardian angel. I'll make sure to tell mom hi for him._

 _Please protect my brother._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Liam Jones_

Emma didn't know what to do. She hardly knew what to think. She'd met the guy once and now, here he was, dead, and she was the only person he'd left a note for. And the note wasn't an explanation, wasn't a declaration of love or guilt or panic. It was  
purely a plea for his brother.

Lily cleared her throat, startling Emma, She'd forgotten the officer was even here. "Is there anything about this letter that strikes you as odd?"

Emma didn't know where to begin. Everything about it was odd. She hadn't done anything, hadn't impacted his life in any way, but here he was. He left his final words with her, for a reason she would never be given the chance to know or understand. "The  
whole thing?" Emma's voice rang out, confused. "I don't know why he emailed me, of all people. An ex Olympic swimmer with a son, someone who hasn't been racing for years. We'd only met once."

Emma's head kept spinning through possibilities, almost tuning out Lily completely until she heard her say, "Ms. Swan, this occurs more often than you know. People who are planning a suicide branch out to people they hardly know because they know their  
loved ones are more likely to stop them. In some cases, it's the opposite and they branch out to people who have had a huge impact on their lives, but the people hardly know it."

Emma was still unsure. Henry began squirming in his baby carrier and Emma was forced into her mother mode, grateful that her son knew when the best times to break her out of her thought were. She could focus on Henry. He was a known factor; easily predictable,  
but still a huge source of joy in her life.

She began to rock Henry side to side, hoping that he was only tired from their swim time this morning. "I can take him if you need a moment, Ms. Swan," Lily offered.

Emma stood, unsure for a moment, but then she realized there was only one way out of the conference room. If Lily tried anything, she could be there in less than a second. That was all the thought she needed before she lifted Henry away from her body  
and left him with Lily. She could definitely use a moment.

She stepped outside the conference room and began to look around. She thought about calling Mary Margaret, but decided to call David instead.

He picked up after two rings. "Hey, I was starting to worry about you. You haven't called in the past few days."

Ah, David. Always the protective older brother. The two weren't blood related, but they were family in all the ways that counted. David and his mother took her in when she was almost out of high school; she would never be able to find a way to repay them.  
They were her dream family. They came to all her swimming competitions, supported her throughout her swimming and coaching careers, and, most importantly, were the best substitute family members for Henry. David had been her shoulder to cry on once  
Neal left. She hoped that, one day, she could find a way to be there for him the way he was for her.

"It's been a crazy past few days." She caught him up on everything, losing her job, barely getting out of bed in the morning, and now this. She was interrupted a few times by some carefully chosen obscenities David decided to aim at Walsh, but she didn't  
mind. It made her feel cherished.

"Okay, let me get this straight. This guy you've met only once commits suicide and leaves his final wishes with you. He doesn't give his brother any final words, only you?" Emma affirms this with a soft noise. "And he wants you to coach his brother?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I don't know what to do. What do you think?" She knew she didn't need her older brother's advice, but she craved it. If she screwed up, it put less of the blame on her.

"Honestly, Em? I think you should at least talk to the guy. He might not even know that his brother left a note for him. Plus, you aren't coaching Walsh anymore. If this guy proves to be as good as his brother claims he is, this could get you your job  
back." Emma sighed, causing David to laugh. "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear now, but too bad. You asked for my advice, now you're getting it."

Emma laughed. She knew he was right. She needed a job and right now, the only offer she had was one from Killian Jones.

She changed the subject, letting her brain work out the details in the background. She inquired about how her sister-in-law was doing, how their new house was coming along, and how David's new job in the safety department was going.

After a few minutes, she hung up the phone. She was anxious to get back to Henry, praying that he wasn't unhappy from his lack of nap.

She walked into the conference room and began to ask how everything was going, only to be shushed by Lily. She barely recognized the sound of silence. Lily spun and Emma saw Henry passed out in her arms. _Oh, yes,_ Emma thought, _Lily will make an excellent babysitter._

Emma slowly pried Henry out of Lily's arms, only causing him to fuss once. "Is there anything else you need from me?" Emma whispered. Lily shook her head and slipped her a tiny sheet of paper.

"No, but here's my number in case anything comes up. Please let me know if you need anything, especially if you need me to watch Henry." Emma pursed her lips and gave the other woman a smile. Emma held a snoozing Henry in her arms and made her way out  
of the police station.

The entire way home, she debated what to do. She kept thinking that if David had committed suicide, she would desperately want to know what his last thoughts were. But on the other hand, she didn't know who this kid was. And Liam wanted her to coach him.

As she arrived back at her house, she made a pact with herself to at least consider the kid. Look him up and poke around his last few races. See if his times were any good at the very least. From what she'd heard, Liam was a good guy and a very demanding  
coach; she wasn't sure what to expect.

She opened the door and gently shut it behind her, dropping her keys on the mail table. She walked down the hall and placed Henry into his crib, admiring her sleeping son. She considered changing him into his pajamas, but almost instantly rejected it.  
If he was comfortable enough to fall asleep, she wasn't going to risk waking him.

With that thought, she walked into her small living room, took her shoes off, a flopped herself down on the couch. The brown leather was smooth against her skin and she felt herself relax almost instantly. She figured she had earned herself a few breaths  
before she started the most stressful part of her job.

After a few deep, deep breaths, Emma forced herself off the couch and to the computer stationed next to the television. She plopped down into the chair and reached for the keyboard. She typed in her username and password and logged in, cracking her knuckles  
before she got started.

The keys clacked against the keyboard as she searched, pulling up race footage, rankings, and his times. They were impressive to say the least. He seemed to have a normal swimmer build – broad shoulders paired with a narrow waist – but that was about  
all she could tell of his physical stature in the videos. She looked through his background, coming up with a few rough edges, but nothing too awful, just a few drunk and disorderly charges. So long as murder wasn't on his short list of crimes, she  
figured she might be able to survive him.

However, Emma was a stubborn woman. She debated for another week on whether or not she should actually take Liam up on the offer. She watched Killian over and over again, but kept wondering if she would be able to handle him and his temper. She waited,  
hoping for another job, any other job, to come her way. Heck, she might've taken a job at a bar before taking on Killian Jones. But, in the end, she knew she'd end up at his doorstep with his brother's last thoughts in her hand.

She lasted exactly eight days before she buckled Henry into his child seat and hopped into the car, Liam's words printed off and her GPS reading her off the directions to the Jones' household.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Emma pulled into the driveway of the large ranch home, hearing the gravel crunch underneath her tires. She parked her car next to a large, black Veneno Roadster. Fast car for a fast guy. She regretted coming here already.

She inspected the house. After all, if this meeting went well, she'd be seeing a lot more of this house in the future.

The outer shell of the house consisted of a beautiful grey stone. The door was wooden, rounded at the top, making the house give off a home kind of vibe. Emma counted her lucky stars that she even knew what a home felt like, only ever living in homes for a few months at a time, never truly being wanted or accepted until she found David. She silently thanked David yet again.

Emma stepped out of the car, slamming the door to her yellow bug. She squinted despite the sunglasses currently resting on her face. It was beautiful. She was on the slope of a huge hill, the sun beaming down on her. She took a couple steps, content on looking around. She could hear hawks whistling through the hill tops, could see green for miles. The view was unbeatable, as was the solitude. There was a certain peace way up here, where no one could find you.

With that thought in mind, she considered what she was doing. He lived here because he didn't want to be found. It wasn't like his long driveway and the fact that he was way up in the hills screamed a large welcome. And she had no idea what to do. What would she say to him? "Hi, I've never met you before, but your brother left me a note after his suicide and, oh, by the way, I'd like to be your new coach because I think you could make it to the Olympics"? Yeah, she didn't think that was very good either.

She stalked back to the car, thinking about what the speed limits were around this area and how fast of a getaway she could make. Before she sat, she reached into the passenger seat and snatched the printed version of Liam's email out. She was still calculating how easy it would be to leave, still weighing her decision. She knew she needed a job, but she wasn't sure how to do this. Maybe another top prospect would come knocking at her door in the next week or so.

She doubted it too. She'd almost talked herself out of knocking on the front door until she heard a loud crash from the inside of the house, followed by a loud "Bloody hell, where'd that come from?!" She tried to talk herself out of making sure everything was alright until she was already knocking on the door. The inside of the house went silent.

There was a long pause and Emma considered sprinting back to her car and driving off. This was stupid. Why did she think to come out here? Why did she think it would be a good idea?

She turned away from the door, eager to leave already, when she heard the door fly open. She turned around and stared at the boy for a moment.

She immediately corrected herself. This was not a boy. Not by a long shot. This was quite the man. He had cutting, glacier blue eyes paired with unruly dark hair. His eyes were reddened, either from crying, lack of sleep, or the sharp smell of alcohol radiating off him. She guessed that it was probably a mix of all three. She took the rest of him in. His sharp jaw had stubble trailing across it; she could tell it'd been a few days since he last properly took care of himself. He had a blue t shirt on, hinting at the muscular chest that hid underneath. His feet were bare and he was in black sweatpants. He painted quite the picture. But upon further inspection, Emma saw the brokenness. The subtle weakness that had slipped in. His hallow cheeks paired with a pale stain. Weak. She figured losing a family member must do that to a person.

Her brain started yelling at her to leave, that she couldn't take on his troubles along with her own, but she was stuck, rooted to the spot. She didn't know why, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the man in front of her.

"Killian Jones?" She asked softly, hoping not to startle him. His eyes glazed over as they finished taking her in. She figured it was the liquor.

"Aye, love. And you are?" He inquired, his blue eyes landing on her green ones. Emma knew she should turn and run. Her feet just wouldn't obey her.

"Emma Swan. Ex-Olympic swimmer and swim coach-" Killian began to shut the door on her, muttering under his breath, annoyed that no one was understanding enough to leave him alone for a few days. No one, especially someone looking to capitalize on his loss, would ever replace his brother.

"Wait!" Emma shouted, sticking her foot in the door. Killian felt the anger begin to bubble in his chest, but he stopped closing the door, his nose barely poking out of it. "I, um," she wasn't sure how she was supposed to do this, "I have a note. Uh, I mean. Your brother-"

The look on Killian's face grew desperate and he opened the door so he could step through it. Emma immediately backed away. However, this time, the paper slipping through Emma's fingers caught his eye. He arched an eyebrow. "Aye, what of him?" He tried to keep his voice steady, despite the buzzing in his head and the shaking fingers resting at his side.

"He sent me an email. You know, before he…" Emma didn't have the courage to say the word. She wasn't sure how Killian would react and she didn't like the thought of him threatening her or Henry, but she also hated the idea of him crying and her being forced into comforting him. Either way, she'd have to make a run for it.

The flames rising in Killian were immediately doused in cold water. "You have what?" He came closer to her and she instinctively backed away from him again, putting her hands up. She could smell the rum on his breath now.

She held up the piece of paper that contained Liam's final thoughts. Killian's eyes were glued to it, throwing his icy blue glare back up to her for a minute. "I printed it off for you. I'm going to be your new coach."

Killian's eyes slammed into hers, fire beginning to thin the ice. "Absolutely not. Nothing in that letter will make you my new coach. No."

His eyes remained trained on the paper, his fingers twitching at his sides. Emma could tell how anxious he was to read what his brother had to say. "Yes. Jones, I would not be on this doorstep if I didn't think you had the ability to go to the Olympics. And I want to be the one to take you there."

Killian chewed on his lip for a moment, but it was purely for show. He was not about to get into that pool. "Sorry, Swan, but no. I'm not swimming anymore."

Killian knew this was the wrong answer when the emeralds in her eyes began to burn.

Emma wasn't about to leave with her tail between her legs. She had spent a week – one full week! – before she even decided she should come here. She wasn't about to leave without that job. Absolutely not.

They stared at each other for several moments, both waiting to see what the other would do. Blue eyes clashed with green in a challenge before Emma made her decision. She began to rip the paper.

Even is his drunken state, Killian knew he was fighting a losing battle. This was one determined lass. But he still decided against giving in just yet. He wasn't going down without a fight. And it better be a good one.

"Now, lass, you don't want to do that." His logical mind was screaming at him, telling him to rip the paper out her hands, close the door, and walk away. But there was something about her fire that he wouldn't mind losing to.

"Don't I?" Emma saw his eye flicker as the tear in the paper got deeper. "Because I think you need to know what this email says. I wonder why he left me a note, but not you. Oh, wait, I do know."

Killian felt the breath leave him. He'd kept thinking the same thing over the past week. How could Liam leave him? And why had he done it? And now, there was anger and hurt brewing in his mind as he asked himself, "Why would Liam have left a note to a stranger and not the person he claimed to have matter most?"

Emma could see the cogs turning in Killian's head as he tried to process everything, but she kept the motion of her hands steady. "Five seconds to make a decision, Jones."

The slow rip was consistent with the breaking of Killian's heart. On one hand, Killian wanted answers. He was desperate for them. And they were all sitting out in front of him, being taunted and used as means to get someone else something they wanted. On the other hand, Killian didn't like this one bit. He needed those answers, but he wasn't going to be a means to an end for this blonde stranger. He wasn't going to let her force him back into swimming.

"Three more seconds, Jones. Then you'll never know."

Killian prided her on her determination. Had this tactic not been used against him, he would've appreciated it way more. But he didn't need a coach. He didn't need anything except for an understanding, an answer. And this firey woman held the key in her hands.

There was a sudden shriek from the car. Emma's challenging gaze broke, her focus dropping for a second. Killian lunged out from his spot and yanked the paper from her hands. Emma's eyes went wide as she processed what had happened. She launched herself at him, attempting to take the paper back, but he held it just out of her reach.

"Jones! Stop! Give me my email back!" She tried demanding, but it only led him to smirk.

"You know, lass, I think I'll keep this. Thanks for the offer though."

"Jones! No! You got your email, now I get to coach you!"

His smirk got bigger. Emma was already regretting her attempt taking him on as a client. She no longer knew which one of them was going to break. "Now, Swan, I think I'm the one with the leverage here."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows, trying to disguise her annoyance as confusion. Killian found it amusing. "How do you have any leverage here? You have nothing I want."

Emma wasn't sure it was possible, but his smirk still managed to grow. "I believe you wanted to coach me? A job, you begged?" He never wanted to get back into the pool. Not even for a second. But he needed an excuse to see this lass again. And if that was the bargain she was going to drive, then he'd have to find a way around getting back into the pool, while keeping her there. Even through the haze of the alcohol, he could tell she'd be a great coach. A pain in his ass, no doubt, but definitely a good coach. It couldn't hurt to take her on. Either way, he thought, he could get used to having such a force in his life.

"How much have you had to drink this week?" Killian began to count, taking several moments. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You're not exactly coachable material." Killian's eyes darkened as he realized where she was going with this. "I'm not sure I want to coach you anymore."

Emma turned from Killian, whose eyes were glued to her. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't ready to let her go yet. The sounds of her boots crunching the gravel as she walked away met his ears. He let her get all the way to the car before he was ready to cave. "Are you saying that you don't think you could handle it?" He called to her.

She stopped, her golden hair flowing in the wind. "Please. You're the one who couldn't handle it."

He tried to keep his pride from showing. He rolled his eyes at her and made his way over to the car. She tightened her grip on her car door, checking the lock on Henry's seat one more time. She may want to coach Killian Jones, but she didn't trust him yet. Especially with her son.

He got close, too close, and whispered, "Well, we'll just have to see." He took a small step back and his eyes landed on Henry. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled, waving at the boy. Emma held her keys a little closer to her. To her surprise, Henry giggled shyly and hid his face from Killian before waving back at him.

Killian stepped away far enough that Emma felt safe to open her door. She didn't think Killian was a bad guy, but he was, at the very least, an intoxicated one. Maybe he wasn't complete drunk, but he was probably on his way there. And Emma did not trust drunk men.

She turned on her car and began to leave, berating herself for coming here, for thinking she could take this job, that Killian wouldn't have already replaced his brother, when Killian shouted at her. "Monday morning, five o'clock. Don't be late, Swan."

Emma paused, smothering a small smile. She refused to give him the satisfaction of winning this one, so she rolled her eyes in response. "We'll see, Jones. I might have a better offer by that point."

She turned away from him and pulled out of the driveway. Once she was out of sight, she frowned, realizing everything that was wrong. She had rules. After such a short time with him, she'd already forgotten about them. How long would she last with him before forgetting them entirely? How long until the rules didn't matter at all?

Maybe she shouldn't take the job.

 _No,_ she scolded herself. "You need this job," she told herself. "There aren't going to be any better offers, not this close to the Olympics. You can keep your rules intact for the next six months. Don't let him get to you already." She couldn't afford to turn this job down, not when she was unsure of how much longer her money would last her.

With a deep sigh, she pulled her car onto the shoulder of the road. She picked up her purse and scavenged through it, pulling out her cell phone. She went into her calendar and set up a new event: "First day with Killan. Five AM, Don't be late."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Much faster upload this time, woohoo! Many thanks to my wonderful beta (bravebuttercups). She has been instrumental to this chapter and has also written wonderful stories, so check her out! Disclaimer: I don't own these characters_

 _Enjoy!_

Chapter Four

When Sunday night arrived, a soft silence had fallen over the Swan household. Emma was propped up on the couch in her living room, Henry perched on her stomach, his breathing steadying out as sleep took over him. She felt his soft breath fan across her face as she stroked his back, not able to bring herself to take him to his bed, selfishly loving the snuggles he gave her.

She thought back to the early days with Henry, the days she spent panicking, insane with worry over how she was going to make it work. She loved Henry, but living on one income and being away for long and odd hours of the day were not conducive to raising a child. Emma remembered many long nights crying on David's shoulder, despite his reassurances that she could raise her son alone. But every rough night was worth it when she got her monkey all to herself. Every smile made her worry fade a little more.

Through this thought process, she found herself drifting, heading towards a well-earned nap before putting Henry to bed. She was all set to fall into oblivion, until her phone started vibrating.

She peeled her eyes open, trying not to let the angry vibrations wake her sleeping child. She shifted slightly, trying to get her phone out of her pocket without jostling Henry, but Henry was in no mood to cooperate tonight. He started fussing at her small movements, eventually waking up in tears, shrieking, his fists clenched tightly on Emma's shirt. He buried his head into Emma's chest as she tried to soothe her normally sweet-tempered baby. While the boy rarely chose to express his displeasure in this way, he sure had a set of lungs on him.

His crying broke her heart, but Emma knew he just needed to get prepped for bed time. He'd already had his bath and was in his pajamas, so Emma headed to his room with her game plan in mind, her phone long forgotten.

She sat down in the wooden rocking chair Mary Margaret had given her and gently rested Henry against her body. His cries began to soften as she started rocking, his brown eyes gleaming up at her.

"There you go, monkey, you're okay." He moved his lips as his eyes started to droop, his grip on her shirt getting weaker by the second. She didn't know why, but this rocking chair always had that power over him. Within minutes, he'd be back asleep and sleeping soundly in his crib.

Once the baby monitor was all set up and Henry was comfortably resting in his crib, Emma headed back to the living room and poured herself a glass of wine. Typically, she didn't drink, but she had a feeling that she was going to need it for tomorrow. If anything, she was celebrating her last Killian-Jones-free night. Or that's what she was telling herself, at least.

She instantly remembered the time she had to awaken. A rude five am. She hadn't willingly been up that early since her training days. She pulled out her phone, aiming to set an alarm.

Instead, she was met with a text from an unknown number.

"Miss me yet, Swan?"

She stared at the screen, confused. Who in the world would she miss? It couldn't have been David or his wonderful wife, so who else did she have regular contact with? Walsh crossed her mind, but not for long. She didn't think he had the guts to keep coming after her.

Defeated and curious, she decided to respond. "I can't miss you if I don't know who you are." The response was almost instantaneous.

"Well played, Swan, but maybe you should've researched me a little better. I'm sure this number is listed somewhere. See you bright and early tomorrow morning! (Oh, and wear that red swim suit you wore back when you won your medal. That outfit is still burned into my brain.)"

She couldn't believe the nerve of him as she felt her face heat with anger. How dare he have the nerve to talk to his coach like that, how dare he snoop around and find her number, how dare he… yes, how dare he! She silently fumed, considering telling him off and not going in tomorrow. But she couldn't walk away. Not yet. Against her better judgment, she replied.

"You mention that suit one more time and you're once again out of a coach," she threatened.

After several minutes, her phone still lacked a response. She briefly considered feeling regret over the text, over so casually mentioning his dead brother, but she forced herself to move on. Killian was another job, not a friend.

Her phone lit up again with a light vibration accompanying it. "Oh, Swan, you wouldn't walk out on me already. I'm your way back in to these beautiful Olympic Games." She could feel his confidence through her phone. She found it slightly unsettling, more than she'd care to admit.

She began constructing her response immediately. "Okay, Mister 'I'm-ranked-28th-in-the-country,' whatever you need to tell yourself. If I wanted back into the Olympics so badly, I would attend the trials as a swimmer, not a coach." She paused, considering how to approach her next question. "Since you are in the 28th spot, I was hoping we could get you back into the pool as soon as possible. Tomorrow. I assume the pool is in good condition?" She clicked send.

This time, he took half an hour to respond and his message felt far too breezy for her liking. "Actually, I was hoping to start on dry land tomorrow. I should really build up my muscles and wait for that to translate into my strokes. And with that, dear Swan, I am afraid I must call it a night. Sweet dreams, love."

She was frustrated. She was his coach. She decided what programming they would follow during training. If he didn't respect her coaching decisions, how could she possibly turn him into an Olympian? She deleted her alarm and the event in her calendar, fully intending to skip out on this job, until she heard Henry's soft snore from the other room.

She couldn't abandon this job. She had a son to take care of now. She had walked away from Walsh so easily, never having considered how it could affect her baby, but this was a good chance to get back to the Olympics.

While Emma didn't like reliving her past, she always enjoyed thinking about the Olympics and the strong women she raced with and developed friendships with. She wanted to be back and to see everyone, but she knew she couldn't go back as a swimmer again. Not with everything that happened and not with Henry being as young as he was. She simply needed to find a way back as a coach.

And Killian was her ticket.

Groaning, she reset her alarms and alerts. She would have to tame him pretty quickly and never let him get under her skin, but she believed that she could do it. She would've never taken the job if she thought there was any kind of chance that Killian Jones would break her rules.

With that thought in mind and training exercises running through her head, she drifted into a blissfully deep sleep.

Emma woke up the next morning to a blaring alarm clock and a fussy baby. She groaned and smashed her phone a couple of times, thankful when it finally turned off. Today was the day she was finally taking on her new project.

With that in mind, she went about her normal routine of getting Henry ready to head over to his beloved Uncle David and Aunt Mary Margaret's house. She got him into his favorite summertime outfit, the ensemble complete with sunglasses and a cute little hat of his. Emma couldn't help but take his picture.

By the time they had left and Emma had dropped her smiling sweetheart off with some of his favorite people, the dread began to slide into her heart. She was playing the 'What-If' game and she knew it, but she couldn't bother stopping herself as she headed over to Killian's.

She pulled into his driveway before she knew it. She sat and stared at the door for a long few moments until she finally gathered up her courage and walked up to the door.

Three light knocks and Emma Swan's life was about to change forever.


End file.
